


what the hell would i be without you?

by hotcuppa



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Barebacking, Birthday Sex, Canon Related, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22744006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotcuppa/pseuds/hotcuppa
Summary: ian’s bedroom was dark, coated in a blanket of black and illuminated only by the moonlight coming through the windows. the clock across the room read 11:57 in bright red numbers, and the room was empty for once. even with lip gone with liam and carl asleep in lip’s room, they still felt like they needed to be quiet and to keep the lights off. like they didn’t want anybody to see them.or: on ian’s 18th birthday, ian and mickey desperately wait to see if they’re soulmates.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 7
Kudos: 356





	what the hell would i be without you?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [polarispluie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/polarispluie/gifts).



> this is a 20th birthday gift to the most chaotic dumbass i know, my lovely internet gf amethyst, who deserves so much more than a fic except that i’m broke and untalented and live 3,000 miles away. so.
> 
> title from sick of losing soulmates by dodie
> 
> set roughly in s4/s5 but i’m also not really following the canon timeline at all so

ian’s bedroom was dark, coated in a blanket of black and illuminated only by the moonlight coming through the windows. the clock across the room read 11:57 in bright red numbers, and the room was empty for once. even with lip gone with liam and carl asleep in lip’s room, they still felt like they needed to be quiet and to keep the lights off. like they didn’t want anybody to see them. 

“why are you so fucking worried?” mickey asks, when he feels ian’s shaky fingers running over mickey’s arm. it’s a senseless pattern that he’s tracing, but it’s still soothing. though mickey would never admit that out loud. “it don’t really matter if we’re soulmates or not, man. if we’re not, it’s not like we have to stop seeing each other. it don’t have to mean anything.”

ian shrugs, “i’m not worried. i’m just… i want it to be you,” he admits, always more ready to say soft things like that than mickey is. of course mickey wants ian to be his soulmate, too, but he’s not having a stroke about it. what the hell difference does it make if they are or they aren’t? it doesn’t change shit. 

“it will be,” mickey promises, even though they both know he can’t promise shit. it’s just as likely to not be mickey as it is to be mickey. 

the clock flicks to 11:58, and ian’s breath catches. mickey leans down to kiss away the panic as well as he can, and ian seems grateful for it, locking his arms around mickey’s neck and pulling him down closer until mickey’s hovered over top of him, pressed chest-to-chest. this is usually ian’s position, but mickey doesn’t mind it. 

ian flicks his tongue into mickey’s mouth and mickey accepts it eagerly, deepening the kiss until it’s practically foreplay. ian’s legs lock around mickey’s waist and urge him down, until their hips are rolling together slowly and urging out small little moans from the both of them. soulmates or not, birthday sex is bound to happen pretty soon after that clock hits midnight. might as well get a head start. 

mickey cracks one eye open after a particularly good thrust, using checking the time to distract himself before they get _too_ into it and hit a point of no return. it’s 11:59, now, and mickey can feel his heart rate start to pick up. 

he pulls his hips away from ian’s, and looks down at him. ian doesn’t whine at the loss of contact this time, just staring right back at mickey. “you know i love you either way, right?” mickey rushes out. it still makes him feel weird to say things like that out loud, but he knows ian needs to hear it right now. knows that ian’s worried that not being soulmates will mean the end. 

as if they could ever be over. as if mickey would ever leave ian, or let ian leave him. as cheesy and cliché as it sounds, mickey knows that ian is it for him. no matter what initials show up at midnight, no matter who his soulmate is, ian is the only one that mickey ever wants to love and be loved by. he doesn’t give a shit about anybody else. fuck the universe. 

point being, mickey ain’t going anywhere. he sure as hell isn’t letting ian go anywhere, not over something as stupid as this. they’re together, they’re _family._ whether the fucking universe says so or not. 

ian nods, eyes still a little hooded and glazed, and plays with the hair on the nape of mickey’s neck. “i know,” ian whispers out. he doesn’t say that he loves mickey, too, but mickey doesn’t mind. he knows that ian does. 

next to ian’s head, the clock ticks to 12am, and they both suck in a breath and let their eyes fall closed. mickey isn’t sure how long it is before he dares to look down, look at ian’s chest. it’s covered by a t-shirt, so mickey leans back on his knees to be able to take his weight off of his hands. he reaches up and slowly pushes ian’s shirt up his chest, until the place right over his heart is exposed. 

_M.M._

he feels a bit giddy seeing it, seeing his own initials on ian’s skin, and he can’t help the happy smile that threatens to crack his face. ian’s eyes are still closed, though, so mickey quickly rushes to take off his own shirt and poke at ian’s chest until he looks. 

when ian sees the _I.G._ that’s now boldly on mickey’s chest, and the _M.M._ on his own, he lets out a laugh so bright and loud that mickey distantly wonders if carl heard it. but then ian is grabbing him by the waist and flipping them over, and mickey can’t think of anything other than the fact that they’re fucking soulmates. 

“i knew it,” ian grins, leaning down to tuck his face into mickey’s neck. “i fucking knew it. i love you. i fucking _love_ you.”

mickey’s stomach flips with butterflies in that stupid way that he used to hate, and he shoves at ian’s shoulder. “yeah, yeah. now are you gonna fuckin’ get on me? it’s late and i’m horny.”

ian responds by rolling his hips down into mickey’s, his face never leaving mickey’s neck. he takes advantage of the position in order to suck a hickey right into the dip of his collarbone, as if his fucking initials on mickey’s pectoral aren’t enough to prove to everybody that he’s ian’s, and that ian is his. 

it’s a bit of a heady feeling, knowing that they belong to each other. like, _cosmically._ it’s something that would’ve scared the shit out of mickey not even a year ago. hell, it does kind of scare him, now. but he thinks that all of the best things in his life used to be scary things. ian used to be the thing that scared him—he used to be terrified of how fucking _easy_ it was to fall for ian, how ian made him feel without even fucking trying. the only thing that scares him about it now, though, is the thought of losing him. 

but now, he also knows how unlikely that is. they’re fucking _soulmates._ this shit is forever, and that probably should scare mickey. might still scare him in the morning, once he’s had time to think about it. but right now, all he can think about is trying to get ian’s clothes off before they come in their pants. 

thankfully, ian seems to feel the exact same way, shedding his shirt and his boxers in two seconds flat. then he sets to work on mickey’s boxers. and once they’re both naked, ian kisses his way down mickey’s body to swallow him down and suck him back to full hardness. not that it’d really flagged upon finding out he was ian’s soulmate, but. mickey wasn’t going to tell ian just how much that thought turns him on. ian would never let him hear the end of it. 

ian hollows out his cheeks and swallows him down until his nose is pressed against mickey’s pubic bone, and in the same second, a dry finger is pressing itself against mickey’s rim. 

“shit, gallagher,” mickey moans out, bending his knees to place his feet flat on the bed and give ian better access. “fuckin’ give a guy a warning next time. and some lube.”

ian pulls off and grins at him, so wide and happy that it’s almost impossible for mickey to bite back a responding smile. “really? soulmates, and you still call me gallagher?”

“fuck off.”

ian snorts, reaching over to grab lube and a condom off of the floor beside the bed. when he comes back up, mickey grabs his arm and pulls him over for a kiss before he can move back down. 

of course ian falls right into it, kissing mickey back like his life depends on it, lube and condom dropping down onto the mattress beside them. mickey knows it’ll be a bitch to find them again if they fall off the bed in the dark, but he also doesn’t want to turn on a light and burst this happy little bubble. they’ll only get to have it for a little while, before morning comes and ian’s siblings inevitably bust into the bedroom with a birthday breakfast and shit. mickey only gets to have ian to himself for a little while, and he doesn’t want to give it up too soon. 

he thinks about running away, sometimes. going off with ian to a place where they can be alone, just the two of them against the world. just like it’s been for the past few years. even when mickey was in juvie and ian was putting money in his commissary, even when mickey would only hang out with ian when the were alone, even when mickey had to force ian’s way into the milkovich home against his wife’s wishes. it’s always been him and ian against the world, it’s always been him and ian saying fuck you to everybody else. 

but ian has a family. ian has people who would care if he disappeared, if he ran off with mickey. ian has people he’d miss. mickey sometimes forgets that he isn’t ian’s whole world the same way that ian is his. it doesn’t make him jealous or possessive. if anything, it makes him happy that ian has so many people that love him. because ian deserves that. 

maybe it makes him a little sad that he’s never had that, but it’s okay. he has ian’s love, and that’s all he really wants anyway. 

the kissing is nice, but mickey gets tired of it really quickly, and grabs the lube from where it’d rolled under his armpit. he pushes it into ian’s chest until ian’s laugh breaks their kiss, and he leans back to coat his fingers in lube. 

“so impatient,” ian teases, as he slips his hand down between mickey’s legs. “you’re lucky i’m not in the teasing mood. kinda just wanna get inside you.” he slips a finger in on the word _inside,_ knocking all of the air out of mickey’s lungs. “otherwise i’d have you begging.”

“fuck you, i don’t beg.”

ian hums, “i bet you do.” he quickly pushes in a second finger, knowing mickey can take it, and mickey whimpers at the feeling of ian stretching him out. two fingers, as long and good as they were, had nothing on ian’s cock. mickey was beginning to get a little desperate. 

“don’t,” mickey pants. “why the fuck are you going so fucking slow? i’m good, get on me.”

“oh, but you don’t beg.” a third finger, and mickey finds himself twisting the sheets in his fists. “you look so fucking good like this, mick. all spread out for me.”

mickey flushes, and kicks ian in the side. “shut the fuck up and get your dick in me, i’m tired of waitin’.” ian just laughs and pulls his finger out, reaching up to grab the condom. it’s tucked under mickey’s back, so while ian fumbles to find it in the dark, mickey grabs it and throws it onto the floor. “don’t use one.”

“huh?”

“you heard me,” mickey grumbles, using his heels on ian’s lower back to try and push him forward. “don’t use it.”

ian pauses. “you don’t want me to use a condom?”

“jesus, man. goddamn. no. why you acting so weird about it?”

“i’m not, i just… why?”

“oh, my god, man. never fuckin’ mind, i’ll just fuckin’—” he cuts himself off to lean over the edge of the bed and get the condom off of the floor, only for ian to grab his arm and manhandle him flat on the bed, his wrists pinned under ian’s hands. 

ian’s smirking at him, and mickey finds himself scowling. “i never said no,” ian grins, and then he moves to trap mickey’s wrists under one hand so he can use his free hand to line his cock up. mickey knows that he could get out of ian’s grip if he wanted to—ian was stronger than him, but mickey could still hold his own—but he lets ian hold him down. it _is_ ian’s eighteenth birthday, after all. 

“hey,” ian says, completely unaffected as if the tip of his dick _isn’t_ pressed against mickey’s hole, “i just realized this is our first time having legal sex.”

mickey rolls his eyes. “don’t make it fuckin’ weird, man, shit. the age of consent is seventeen in illinois anyway.”

“let me enjoy being legal,” ian pouts, and then he slowly starts to push in. mickey feels like his entire body lights up, back arching as every glorious fucking inch of ian’s dick fills him up. if mickey died right now, he’d die a happy goddamn man. “shit, mick. always feel so fucking good. can’t believe i get to do this for the rest of my life.”

mickey’s chest tightens as he remembers the whole soulmate thing. he lets a hand reach up to touch his initials on ian’s chest, gently running his fingertips over them. “as if you wouldn’t have gotten to anyway,” he breathes out, just so he doesn’t get too overwhelmed with the whole soulmate thing. 

ian doesn’t respond to that, just picks up a steady pace of fucking into mickey’s body. it isn’t too slow or too fast, not particularly rough or particularly gentle. it’s fucking perfect, and the angle is amazing, and ian isn’t even hitting his prostate yet but mickey feels like he’s barreling towards orgasm. it’s kind of fucking embarrassing how much the soulmate thing is affecting him. 

his pace quickens until their hips are slapping together so loudly that it echoes, and mickey can’t even find it within himself to care. he doesn’t even care how loudly he’s started moaning, because it feels so goddamn _good,_ and they’re fucking soulmates. 

mickey hooks his hands under his knees and pulls his legs to his chest, nearly crying out when the angle finally allows ian to start nailing his prostate. ian seems to like it too, if his moans are anything to go by. 

“fuck, not gonna last,” ian moans out, his pace growing even more erratic as he pounds mickey into the mattress. “mick—”

“flip over,” mickey groans out. it pains him to ask for that when ian is fucking him so goddamn good, but this is ian’s birthday, and ian shouldn’t be doing all the fucking work. “come on, man, let me on top.” he pushes on ian’s shoulder until ian rolls over, keeping himself inside of mickey until he’s laying down with mickey straddling him. 

without any preamble mickey starts rolling his hips, grinding in little figure eights. ian’s grip on his hips is so tight that mickey’s sure it’ll bruise, but he doesn’t care, just lets ian help control the movement of mickey’s hips. 

mickey isn’t one for bouncing on ian’s cock when he’s riding him. it’s not comfortable, it makes his thighs burn, and ian always falls out a thousand times. he’d much rather just let ian sit balls deep and grind on it. but he knows that ian likes the bouncing, likes how it feels _and_ how it looks, and he knows that ian likes planting his feet on the bed and thrusting up to meet mickey’s thrusts down. 

so mickey raises himself up once and settles back down again, slowly. he does it a couple more times to get a feel for it and then sets a steady rhythm, trying to ignore the way his thighs are already burning and the way his dick is bouncing like a goddamn helicopter. 

it’s easy to ignore, in the end, because ian goes absolutely crazy. he’s moaning so loudly that there’s no way carl and fiona _don’t_ hear them, and he has his feet on the bed to meet mickey’s thrusts before mickey even realizes it’s happening. mickey throws his head back as ian hits his spot over and over, and he knows it’ll be over soon for him, too. 

“fucking close,” mickey moans out, bouncing faster and harder. “need— fuck, _ian,_ i—” he doesn’t get to finish his sentence but ian understands anyway, reaching out to jerk mickey off in time with their thrusts.

he barely gets three strokes in before mickey’s coming, spilling all over ian’s hand and stomach. he stops his bouncing, keeping ian buried deep inside as he rides out his aftershocks. 

“shit,” mickey groans, “you were supposed to come first.”

ian laughs and opens his mouth to say something, but mickey cuts him off by starting to grind against him again. his legs are on fire now, but he does his best, riding ian until ian shouts out his orgasm, hands holding mickey down so ian’s balls deep the entire time. 

while he can’t actually feel the cum inside of him, he can feel every single twitch of ian’s dick, and the knowledge that ian is coming inside of him without the condom as a barrier makes him feel ready for round fucking two. 

“fuck,” ian breathes out, collapsing back against the bed like he’s suddenly gone boneless. “that was fucking amazing. is soulmates sex supposed to be that fucking great?” mickey’s cock makes a valiant attempt to get hard again at the mention of soulmates, the fucking traitor. mickey nearly scowls at it. 

“you saying our sex for the past three years wasn’t good, gallagher?” mickey asks as he raises himself up and off of ian’s dick. he hates the feeling of emptiness, just like always, but this time he rushes to lay down so he doesn’t start leaking cum everywhere. “get me a fucking towel.”

“i’m the one with cum all over me!”

“fine, i’ll get up and i’ll just let your fucking cum leave a goddamn snail trail from here to the bathroom.”

ian laughs and punches mickey’s arm, but quickly gets up and hurries to the bathroom, not even bothering to cover up before he leaves the sanctity of the dark bedroom. 

he returns quickly, though, his stomach wiped free of mickey’s release. he has a wet towel and a dry towel, and despite mickey’s protests that he’s not a fucking baby that needs help wiping his ass, he spreads mickey’s legs and starts cleaning him up. it should feel more embarrassing than it is, but mickey finds that he mostly just finds it endearing that ian is willing to clean him up. 

once they’re both clean and dry, they settle under the blankets with each other, ian’s head tucked under mickey’s chin and mickey’s arms wrapped tightly around him. mickey thinks their newfound habit of cuddling after sex is even gayer than the gay sex itself, but he forces himself not to say shit about it. he likes cuddling ian, and he doesn’t want ian to think he doesn’t like it. 

“i love you,” ian murmurs, fingers dancing over mickey’s bare chest, every now and then drifting over to the _I.G._ that’d inked itself on mickey’s chest. mickey wonders what they would’ve done if nothing had showed up. 

thankfully, they don’t have to worry about that.

mickey presses a kiss to ian’s hair, and then closes his eyes. “happy birthday, gallagher.”


End file.
